Written
by Desktop Warrior
Summary: Tobias hunts for a lost dream, while Darach is unwittingly caught up in the search for a legend. Are their fates truly predetermined, or can that which is written be erased? After all, reality is what one makes of it.


**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own Pokémon. It is the intellectual property of Nintendo and affiliated companies and persons.

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><p><em>"Are you satisfied?"<em>

_ "No, not merely satisfied. I am grateful. I am grateful beyond measure, my partner."_

_ There was a hiss of static, a squeal of feedback. I covered my ears. Clearly, I had caused insult. But why?_

_ "We are not partners anymore. Our contract is fulfilled." A tone of finality was implied, as though the subject was now closed to future discussion. The hint of a smile crept at the corners of my lips as I attempted to convey my friendship._

_ "That is correct," I conceded. "But beyond the contract…" I fumbled, unsure of how to express myself. "Beyond it, I cherish the memories we shared. Ours was not merely a battle, but an experience."_

_ Perhaps I imagined the flicker that passed through eyes of cold blue, for the gaze that met me was as devoid of emotion as the voice which spoke. "An experience. You say it means more to you, but you cannot hide the desires hidden within you. I saw them at our first meeting, and they are still there, inebriated by your sense of victory."_

_ A _sense_ of victory. Indeed, it was but a _sense._ Something of my own fabrication, that existed in my imagination solely as the product of the environment I had existed in. I had only considered it a victory because that was what I had been taught victory was. Such constraints did not hinder the dream world. _

_ And standing before me was the Master of Dreams._

_ To describe the Master is some difficulty for me, and perhaps I will be able to do so more effectively at another time. Not during these crucial moments. Suffice to say for now that the Master is formless, an agglomeration of dark vapours that constantly entwine and separate. Aside from the lighter stream of vapour at the apex and the ring of red at the neck, the only distinguishing features are the eyes: cold, uncaring, bottomless pools of blue with white slits at the centre. I should rather say, not 'uncaring' as much as 'incognizant.' As we cannot truly comprehend the ways of the Master, so the Master cannot comprehend our ways._

_ "I have those desires," I said. "I will not deny it. But surely you can see that they are just as you said: hidden. Overwritten, if you will, by the memories. Memories that exist for both of us." I smiled. "You acknowledge it, too. I can see it."_

_ There was silence. To clarify, there is never really 'silence,' as we would conceive it, when speaking with the Master. Because we communicate in entirely different ways, there will always be some metaphorical white noise as we attempt to find a channel which allows us to comprehend one another. For there to be silence meant that we had resonated. We understood each other._

_ Breaking that silence was a voice neither male or female, young or old, soft or loud. It simply communicated. "Thank you, my partner."_

_ The static returned, and I knew I could delay the inevitable no longer. I removed the red cloak and laid it on the ethereal floor at my feet. The Master watched._

_ "You will return to your existence now." A hiss and crackle._

_ "I will return to my existence now." The words came out slowly. I did not want to speak them. Who in my position would? And who would want to speak the horror I uttered next?_

_ "And I acknowledge, as the Shadow of the New Moon and Master of Dreams is my witness, that the fulfillment of my objectives belongs to Dream, and Dream only. With this oath, I grant my dream to Darkrai."_

_ Events from that point on become hazy. I remember but a few disjointed sequences. The world where the Master and I had spoken convoluted, lost its form, and finally dissolved into a miasma of colours. I recalled my meeting with the Master – who was he? Was it even a he? No, it was just a shapeless dark mass, which then exploded into light. There was a cheering crowd, seated at a stadium and watching an event. What were they watching? What were they cheering for? Eight metal objects…they were significant somehow. They were very personal to me. They had given me access to an event I had greatly anticipated. Ah, if I could only remember…!_

_ Remember what? What was so important? And why was it so bloody cold? So bright and so cold, such earthly, wakeful sensations-_

He breathed in deeply as his eyes opened, then shut them again quickly as he was nearly blinded by the morning sunlight that entered through the thin curtains. He would really have to close the drapes at night. And sleep underneath the blanket. No wonder he'd woken up freezing.

Getting out of bed and putting on a pair of socks, he tried to remember the dream he'd had last night. It had been one of his most vivid, but he'd be damned if he could recall it now. He squinted at bookshelf in the centre of his bedroom, as though the space in the middle of the second-highest shelf would provide some clues. He'd always arranged it this way, hadn't he? A couple trophies from high school sports on the left, a commemorative statue from winning a sixth-grade spelling bee on the right, and a large gap in the centre which he was saving for something special.

No matter. It was time to start his day.

He had a lot of work to do.

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><p>Skipping the long author's note because it's nearly 4 A.M. and my brain is in sleep mode, this is basically an idea that took form on and off over the past couple months. I was inspired to write it by a conversation I had with a couple folks over at This Is Not A Forum back in September or October, when we were talking about underused characters in the Pokémon fandom. So, for all the folks at TiNa, and particularly Sakura Mau Toki, this is for you.<p> 


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